More Short Stories
by Helen Pattskyn
Summary: AU. Since I created "Short Stories" as specifically Janto-centric, I needed a place for other characters'in "my" Alt.Universe plot bunnies and drabbles to come hang out. Ratings flux from chapter to chapter; story M to cover chapters w/ adult content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

**Purpose: **_Short Stores is where all my Jack/Ianto centric plot bunnies hang out (and make more plot bunnies.) I needed a place for the other characters' plot bunnies to call their own (because they were thumping on my head), so I created one. Much like Short Stories, this will get new chapters as the Muses inspire me, so it's likely to be sporadic._

**Timeline: **_I'm at the mercy of the Muses… but what I'm expecting is that this will all be post Journey's End (Doctor Who season 4 finale), with just a few set in between Exit Wounds and Journey's End (i.e. Bobby and Wendy fluff before Stolen Earth.)_

**Genre: **_The usual… some fluff, some romance, some angst… _

**Rating: M **_(but really it will fluctuate between T and M with more on the lower end of the spectrum.)_

**The usual discliamers apply... **

**Ch. 1: **_Rated** K+...** no bad words even, just **Abby / McGee** fluff... enjoy!! (slightly re-written after I finished **Welcome to Torchwood.)**_

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**Chapter One: Roofs**

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_Sparkling angel__, I believe, you were my saviour in my time of need… _Sharon den Adel's hypnotic soprano voice drifted out of the CD player and out into the dark windy night.

"Mood music," Abby explained to Tim's perplexed look.

He just smiled and shook his head. "I didn't know a roof needed mood music."

"Timmy," she teased him, "Everything needs mood music." She pulled the shaggy faux fir wrap tighter around her shoulders and joined him near the roof's edge. "So? What do you think?"

"Great view, I guess."

"Timothy McGee," Abby scolded him with a deep frown that someone who didn't know her better may have taken seriously.

"What?"

Abby just giggled and slid her arm into his. They had a perfect view of Cardiff Bay and the night sky was crystal clear and filled with pin-prick stars. And Jupiter. Abby pointed it out to Tim… he didn't tell her he already knew that it was Jupiter and not a star. He doubted that astronomy had ever been her forte… he wondered what had brought up the interest in it now.

She shrugged when he asked. "Jack, I guess."

"Fantastic married Jack," he teased.

Abby smacked his arm.

"Hey!"

She gave him a glower.

"Well it's not like he's gay," he only hoped Ianto's crack about Jack and some ex of his duking it out over the poodle was a joke... but Jack _had _called Wendy sexy and they weren't talking about her 'human skin' when he'd said it. It hadn't taken more than a couple of days for Tim to get the idea that Jack wasn't kidding when he said 'animal, vegetable or mineral.'

Playing 'never have I ever' with his new teammates at the pub last night had been an experience. Abby, trying to give Jack a break, he was sure, had finally come with 'never have I ever engaged in necrophilia.'

To which Jack sighed and raised his glass. Ianto explained it as a technicality…

"Jack brought me up here after my first week," Abby's voice cut through Tim's thoughts.

"Starting a new tradition?" He asked; it was the end of his first week and he had to admit, he looked up at the night sky an awfully lot differently than he had seven days ago.

In answer to his question, Abby just shrugged. "He said it was pretty normal for someone to come into Torchwood and suddenly see the universe as a hostile, scary place," she turned her face from the stars to the man standing next to her, shivering a little in the chill of the wind coming off the bay. "He promised me that it wasn't, though. I believe him."

"Me too."

"Really?"

It was his turn to shrug. "He'd know, I guess."

Abby smiled, a smile that had nothing to do with Jack Harkness. "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too."

Abby hugged closer. "You're my best friend, you know."

He regarded her a long, thoughtful moment. "Do…" _no, start that over_, he told himself, "That is. Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

Abby eyed him suspiciously. "We're not talking another 'date' are we?"

"Why not?"

"Timothy."

One word said it all, even if the word wasn't 'no.' "Just dinner… maybe a movie or something," he added with a shrug. "You have my word, I won't make the same spectacular mistake I made last time."

"And what mistake was that?" She asked, just for clarity sake.

"I won't tell you I like you. Even though I do. You're my best friend, too."

She smiled again. "Ok. I guess I can live with that. And dinner. Ianto was telling me about this fantastic Ethiopian spot that just opened up down the street."

"Ethiopian sounds good."

"Good. But we have to skip the movie, there's nothing playing."

"What about the Men in Black III…?" her expression stopped him mid-sentence. "I thought you like Wil Smith."

"I see enough aliens at work, thank you very much."

He couldn't help but laugh, it was such an incredible statement. But it made sense. "Ok. No movie."

"And they call it the cinema over here, Timothy," she told him with a pert little grin. She kept correcting him that it was a mobile not a cell phone and a torch not a flash light, too.

"Duly noted. What do you want to do after dinner?"

Abby looked up at him, her mind wandering back to their first ill-fated attempt at dating. Not that it had been all bad, Tim had surprised her… _it really is the quiet ones you've got to watch out for… _"Let's start with dinner and see what happens."

………………………………………………………………………**.**

**A/N:**_MiB III is purely fictional; as far as I know, no such project is in the works, I just needed something with aliens in it. Also, I didn't chose the song referenced to at the beginning for any reason other than it's really beautiful and on my playlist of 'writing music' for Torchwood… it happened to be playing when I started writing this. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Characters: **Wendy Shutten and Bobby Chase

**Setting:** Pre-Journey's end. Wendy and Bobby are still living in Ianto's flat.

**Rated T... **unless you've got a really good imagination...

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**Chapter Two: Red, Red Wine**

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Wendy split the last of the second bottle of wine between hers and Bobby's nearly empty glasses; candles flickered around the room, incense filled the air. Patchouli. Wendy had just finished reading the last chapter of Anne Bishop's _Sebastian_ aloud to her flatmate. "We seriously should get some food soon, Sweetheart."

Bobby arched a blond eyebrow at her, "Sweetheart?"

"I call everybody Sweetheart," she laid her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, enjoying the way he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"So I shouldn't take it personally, huh?"

"Nope," she popped the 'p' just a little bit.

It had been a Hell of a day and they were both exhausted. And, Wendy was pretty sure, drunk. Or at least pretty tipsy. Which, in hindsight, would have explained the kiss that followed… except that Wendy wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him in closer.

She slid into his lap and pressed into him… pressed herself against him, claiming his body as her own…her hips moved in slow deliberate fashion and she smiled into the kiss when she felt his response…

And then her brain finally kicked in, trumping the wine-haze of hormones; she pulled back quickly. "Oh God! I am so sorry..."

"I'm not," he gulped, trying to at least get her to come back to the settee. She looked petrified. "Wendy…"

She shook her head. "I'm not human, remember?"

"That's not the sort of thing I could forget." _Especially after today…_ if she hadn't shifted shape when the little horde of Weevils ganged up on them in the sewers, he wouldn't be sitting there, trying to figure out why she was so rattled. It was just a kiss… a really nice one. A really nice one that might have led to other things… nice things… He couldn't deny that he'd felt a certain attraction to her almost immediately, but there was Alison and a ton of mixed up feelings where she was concerned. He still had mixed up feelings where Alison Cameron was concerned.

Besides, Wendy was Ianto's best friend. One didn't mess around with a co-worker's best friend – with a friend's best friend – unless one was at least a little bit serious… was he serious?

Bobby looked at the frightened woman standing in front of him and held out his hand. "Will you at least come sit back down? I'll sit on my hands if it'll make you feel better," he added.

She laughed; she couldn't help it. "You don't have to sit on your hands. Maybe we should just get some dinner and forget that just happened."

"Maybe we should get some dinner and talk about what just happened."

"Bobby…"

"Wen, if you tell me you're not interested, I'll drop it, I promise. I just want you to know that… that I think you're really beautiful. I like you," there they were, the three words that had doomed his relationship with Alison and here he was, saying them again… but Wendy smiled.

"I like you too. You're a great flatmate."

It was his turn to chuckle. "That's only because I'm trying really hard." And because he wasn't the sort of person who was going to complain about finding articles of feminine clothing hanging up to dry in the bathroom, at least not when she made up for it by cooking breakfast for them every morning. She was a fantastic cook.

"At least you don't complain when I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle of the tube," she quipped back.

"I can think of worse things to complain about."

"Like my underwear?"

"You realize there is no way I can answer that without getting slapped, either by you or Ianto."

Wendy laughed. "Fair enough. So… dinner?"

"So… that kiss?" he countered.

"Bobby…"

"Just tell me whether or not you'd like to try it again sometime."

She blinked at him. "You're serious."

"Some reason I shouldn't be?"

"I… "

"You're beautiful," he repeated, gently brushing a single long curl away from her face. "All of you," he added, understanding her hesitation. She still expected him to be repulsed by her. He'd seen it today, after she shifted back into human skin. She'd stayed away from all of them until Ianto finally dragged her over.

"I don't frighten you?"

"Well… I wouldn't want to get on your bad side…"

"I'm serious." Her tone was almost pleading.

"So am I. I trust you. I thought you knew that by now."

"I… I guess I just… I'm still not used to it. I… I've never… kissed… outside my own species." Her gaze was averted. They both knew that by kiss she meant a whole lot more than just kissing.

"I don't mind if you don't," he said the only thing he could think of before leaning in, slowly, to give her time to back away if she wanted to.

Wendy hesitated, but she didn't back away. She sank into the kiss, deepened it until Bobby found himself on his back, under her on the settee, her mane of curly dark hair falling around his face. "I don't want you to regret this in the morning," she said quietly, her voice little more than a soft whisper in his ear.

He slid his hands under her shirt, feeling her skin… warm… soft… he kept them on her sides… her back… he looked up at her. "I have no intention of regretting this."

"I mean it, Bobby. Stop me if…"

"No worries," he repeated, cutting her off. Some hazy part of his brain acknowledged that, in a way, this was every man's fantasy, to have a gorgeous, sexually aggressive woman strattling him, asking _him_ if it was all right to continue… a gorgeous, sexually aggressive woman who could quite literally snap him in half without any effort… "I really do trust you," he told her again. "You're _beautiful_."


	3. Tim McGee – Day One, Take Two

**Just a silly, fluffy piece I wrote last night****… I felt like I wanted to do something nice for Tim after that last story!**

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**Tim McGee – Day One, Take Two**

…………………………………………………………………**..**

Tim took a quick short breath as the alarm sounded and the cog door rolled aside. The dress code still baffled him, so when shopping for suitable work attire, he'd opted for the familiar. Slacks and a jacket… not a matched set, just neutral coordinating colours… and a dress shirt. He was carrying a soft brief case and he had his laptop slung over one shoulder, in a protective case.

The team seemed slit down the middle on ties. Bobby and Ianto wore them, Jack and Mickey didn't. Tim decided to emulate the boss and skip the tie, although he left the emulating there. He wasn't going to ask why Jack was stuck in the nineteen fifties… or if he'd really been around as long as he claimed.

Abby said he had.

But that would make him over a hundred years old. Nobody could be that old… then again, on his first day, he'd gotten himself exposed to alien angel dust and met a real live werewolf.

_Right. Welcome to Torchwood,_ Tim told himself, forcing a congenial smile. He wanted to look professional when he stepped through the door. Eager, willing and able to do a good job despite the way he'd started his employment with Torchwood three almost a week ago.

(He'd been cleared to leave the hospital after only a couple of days, so long as he had someone to look after him. Abby volunteered to take him home. He was still sleeping on her sofa…)

As soon as the cog door rolled open, he became aware of yelling... instinctively, he went for the gun he wasn't carrying… then he heard Jack's distinctive laugh rise over the commotion… and… something… squawked?

The secondary doors swung open.

"Heads up!" the blond Australian grinned as he came in, ducking. "Catch!" Bobby tossed a basketball right at him.

Startled, Tim dropped his brief case just in time to catch the ball, although he'd never been that good at sports and he had no idea what he was actually supposed to do (other than the obvious… not that there was a basket anywhere obvious.)

"No fair!" Gwen protested. "Now you've got _**two**_ more players than we do!"

"Boys against the girls," Jack clarified the teams, "Pass it here," he held his hands open to receive the ball.

"And watch out for Myfanwy!" Ianto called out urgently as Tim made a less than graceful toss to the Captain.

Tim didn't know what Ianto was talking about until the pterodactyl swooped down, gliding over them less than a few feet from the tops of their heads. She let out another indignant squawk.

"Hey, she's a girl," Abby declared, "Maybe we should put her on our team." (Tim never, _**ever**_, thought he would see the day he'd see Abby Sciuto playing basket ball, _especially _wearing that pleated little black skirt and knee-high boots with the thigh high socks… not that he particularly objected to the way she looked…)

"How exactly are you going to put the bird on your team?" Mickey wanted to know.

"She's not a bird!" Abby corrected him in an indignant tone. "She's a dinosaur!"

"Hey, I watch the Discovery channel," Mickey countered, just as indignantly, catching the ball from Jack. "Dinosaurs are birds." He started to throw it, but Gwen intercepted the ball and threw it to Abby, shooting a very smug little grin at Mickey as she did.

"Is there an actual basket around here somewhere?" Tim wondered aloud, hoping to clarify the rules of the game before someone threw him the ball again… if they did. He was the new guy after all… and he _really_ hadn't excelled in sports… it might be just as well if they didn't throw him the ball again.

Ianto got the ball away from Gwen and passed it back to Jack.

"The bins," said the Captain, taking aim at the bin behind Wendy's desk.

Tim crooked an eyebrow. "Bins?"

"Waste paper basket," Bobby clarified, blocking Wendy, who was trying to get to Jack to get the ball.

"I think maybe they _need_ more players," said Wendy, nudging Bobby back out of her path.

Abby eluded Ianto's attempted block and bounced the ball out of Jack's hands. She passed it to Gwen, who landed it into the basket at Mickey's desk.

"Oi! Just because I missed the last shot…" Mickey protested.

"The last several shots," Gwen reminded him, continuing to look smug.

"The girls shoot into the bins at the guys' desks, we shoot our balls into their bins," Jack told Tim with a lascivious grin as he retrieved the ball and threw it back into the fray. "Not that I'm opposed to putting my balls into the basket of any man here," he added with a wink.

Tim blinked… he'd really just said… and meant… one look at Ianto assured him that yes, Jack had meant that just as literally as anyone cared to interpret it.

Wendy caught the ball midair; Bobby snagged it away from her and passed it to Mickey, who passed it to a startled and nervous Tim.

"Afraid of missing another shot, Mickey Mouse?" Wendy taunted him.

"I was bein' nice!" He defended himself.

Tim took a quick little breath and tossed the ball… he was profoundly relieved when he got it into the waste paper basket next to Gwen's desk.

Laughing, Jack retrieved the ball again; clearly that was his role in the game. "Ok Kids… time to get to work."

"That is really no fair," Gwen socked him in the arm.

Jack just smirked.

"So who won?" Tim asked, bewildered. This was _**nothing**_ like his first day at NCIS – or anywhere else for that matter.

Abby's sour face, directed right at him, told him that it must have been the guys who won and he probably shouldn't have asked.

"He cheats," explained Ianto with a wry little grin. As he took the ball from the Captain, his fingers slid across Jack's hands… it was clearly no accident.

Jack leant in and whispered something into Ianto's ear that made the younger man grin.

Then Jack walked over to Tim. "Nice shot, by the way. We could have used you twenty minutes ago. The girls were killing us."

"Erm… sorry…" Jack had said 9 am… he'd arrived at 8:45…

Jack just laughed and clapped him gently on the back. "There's always next time."

"So… do… you guys do this a lot?"

Jack shrugged, "When your life is on the line every day, it helps to be able to blow off a little steam."

Tim nodded; that made sense.Hewatched as Bobby headed back down towards the medical bay. Abby slipped into her lab coat and went to work on something. Mickey was still pondering the _thing. _Gwen was sitting at her computer reading her book… Wendy was looking at something on her computer. He had a hard time looking at her and not seeing what he'd seen last week… what he thought he'd seen. What he never would have believed he'd seen if Jack hadn't told him she was real and really what he thought she was… she looked up noticed him staring.

Feeling heat overtake his cheeks, Tim flashed a shy smile. She returned it, seemingly not taken aback by his stare, and went back to whatever she was reading on her computer screen.

"It's a lot to take in, isn't it?" Jack asked quietly.

"Yeah."

The Captain smiled good-naturedly. "Let's start out with the basics…" he began, steering the younger man towards the archives…


	4. Surprises Tim, Abby, and

**Characters: **Abby, Tim, Jack and…. ??

**Setting:** A few months after the last chapter, which puts the date round about Christmas 2009.

**A/N****: **I'm just exorcising (no, this time I meant to spell it that way!) some plot bunnies… I plan to spend tomorrow morning and all day Thursday working on **Blood Moon,**and have at least one chapter up by the weekend.

I'm not sure exactly where this story arc is going, although I expect it to be a couple of chapters and have at least one or two little Janto moments.

**Rating: **K+ / Fluff

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**Chapter Four: Surprises**

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A black Christmas tree. A seven foot tall, black Christmas tree. A seven foot tall black Christmas tree standing in front of the huge bay window, perfectly framed by the red velvet drapes that hung around the window. A seven foot tall black Christmas tree decorated with skulls on red ribbons and green glass globes.

Tim shook his head as he carefully draped shiny red and gold garland into place; he would have preferred to put the garland on _first _as anyone who had ever put up a Christmas tree knew perfectly well you were supposed to, but by the time he got home, Abby already had the tree assembled and decorated with skulls and globes. He wouldn't have minded taking it down and started over, but she was due at the Hub for an over-nighter in an hour and she wanted to see the tree all decorated before she left.

He wondered if Ianto had to make similar compromises. God knew Jack wasn't ever going to win any awards for his organizational skills.

"You don't have to be _that_ precise, Timmy," Abby scolded, coming out of the kitchen with a couple of mugs of hot chocolate.

He shot her a look.

"Ok, ok, sheesh… when I said you could stay here, I didn't know I was moving in with Felix Unger."

Tim snickered; they really were the odd couple. "Anything you say, Oscar," he snarked right back. It earned him a playful sock on the arm. "There. What do you think?" he asked, standing back to admire his perfectly draped garland.

"I think all it needs is the angel."

He gave her a look. "You bought an angel for the top?" he would have expected something a little more… Abby.

"I brought it from home," she grinned proudly. She'd taken a brief trip back home last month to collect a few things.

Abby brought out the old shoe box from its hiding place under a table. Tim braced himself… home for Abby was New Orleans, voodoo capitol of the United States and known for its all around weirdness… which explained her outward appearance pretty well.

The antique porcelain faced angel in a time-tinted Victorian gown surprised him. "That's beautiful."

"Why thank you, Timothy," she grinned, handing it to him. "In honour of our first Christmas together, I'd like you to put the angle on the tree."

"Really?" it looked like some kind of family heirloom or something.

She flashed that perky Abby-smile, big green eyes sparkling. "Yes. Really."

Tim wasn't quite sure how one dinner had turned into two… three… four… or how her keeping an eye on him until Bobby declared him completely clear of alien angel dust had turned into him moving into Abby's one bedroom flat, or exactly how any of that had led to him putting the angel on the tree in honour of their first Christmas together… but he just wise enough not to ask too many questions.

He reckoned at least part of it was the job. It didn't leave either of them time to date… and what would they talk to anyone else about, anyway? It was little wonder that there was no Rule Number Twelve at Torchwood.

He gave an affectionate smile over his shoulder as he stepped back, the angel placed atop the tree. "Well?"

Abby hit the lights and scurried to plug in the tree… multi-coloured Christmas lights blinked out at them. "Perfect," she declared.

"Perfect," he agreed, sipping his hot chocolate. After all, perfectly crazy was still perfect.

They were both startled by the knock on the door… not that it was that late and not they didn't have at least one neighbour prone to popping over to borrow cups of sugar or tins of tomato paste.

Mindful of the mistletoe hanging just over the door frame in case it was Jack again – Tim didn't particularly want another 'snog' from his boss – he opened the door…

"Oh my GOSH!" Abby hurtled past him, nearly knocking Tony DiNozzo to the ground as she barrelled into him, squeezing tight. "Why didn't you call!"

"Surprise…" he struggled to get the word out. The real surprise was his, at seeing Tim standing in Abby's apartment looking a little too much as if he lived there… neither had mentioned Tim living with Abby in their emails, just that they were working together at some institute or something. He'd glossed over the details.

Abby released her hold and brought Tony inside. "You should've called!" she protested. "I have to work tonight, but if I'd know you were coming, I could have switched with somebody…"

"You have to work to_**night**_?" He questioned. It was nearly nine p.m. What kind of institute was open all night?

"I can go in for you," Tim volunteered.

"You worked all day!"

"The most exciting thing I did today was help Yan go through the files from 1887. It was a pretty dull year."

"You want to visit with Tony too… it's been over a year… oh my gosh, you look so good!" she hugged Tony again. He and Tim exchanged bemused glances; some things didn't change.

"I know you," Tim told her after she'd released her hold on the other man. "You won't be able to concentrate on anything knowing he's in town and you're stuck at work."

"Maybe I could come hang out," Tony suggested hopefully. "It could be like old times… what?" he said to the way Abby was biting her lip.

"I wish you could but…" she looked to Tim for help.

"The boss is pretty strict about that sorta thing." he supplied. "Authorized personal only… "

"Come on, Probie. You guys said you worked at a school or something… right?"

"Erm… not exactly. Torchwood does a lot of… classified stuff," Tim supplied, less than eloquently.

"As if. I've got higher clearance than you."

"In the United States," said Tim.

"You actually have security clearance over here…"

Tim just shrugged. Bragging wasn't his style and even if it was only answering a question, Tony would assume he was bragging if he told him what his clearance actually was. "How long are you here?" he asked instead.

"I've got a couple days shore leave…"

"We can get together tomorrow, then," Tim handed Abby his mug. "I should get going, though. There's a concert at the Centre tonight and traffic is going to be murder."

"Hold on…" she grabbed his arm before he could get away. "I packed a lunch…"

"I… I'll just hit the café," he tried hard not to grimace. The one thing he and Abby couldn't compromise on was food. He'd rather have Jack's chilli than some of the things Abby put into her lunch.

"You have to at least take Myfanwy's chocolate bar," she protested, digging it out of her Happy Bunny lunch pail.

"Abbs, Jack isn't kidding, she's getting fat."

"She is not!"

He sighed and took the chocolate bar from her outstretched hand. "If I loose a finger…"

"You will not loose a finger, don't be so melodramatic."

He rolled his eyes and refrained from commenting that the pterodactyl was very particular about who she liked and who she merely tolerated. He was on the tolerated list.

"I promised Janet I'd have lunch with her tonight," said Abby.

"I'll have lunch with Janet."

"You have to actually _talk _to her, Timmy. You can't just sit there and stare like you did last time."

"I'll talk to her. I promise. I'll tell her all about… about our Christmas tree and… and… 1887," he said, struggling to come up with anything he could possibly say to an alien who lacked the capacity for complex communication.

Abby heaved a sigh. "I'm sure she'll be _thrilled_ to hear about 1887," her tone was ripe with sarcasm.

"Well what do you talk to her about?"

"More exciting stuff than that."

"Fine, I'll come up with something, I promise."

"All right, I trust you. You're sure you don't mind?"

"I don't mind."

"You're the best!" she grinned. "Give Jack a kiss for me?"

"Sorry. _That_ you have to do yourself." Chocolate bars for the pterodactyl and lunch with Abby's favourite Weevil he could handle, but there were limits…

"Ok," she drawled. "If Bobby has anything for me to look at, just put it up where I can find it and I'll get to it…unless it's important, then you should call me. Oh… and I was going to run a system wide diagnostic tonight. I've got the program set up, all you really have to do is hit run…"

"I think I can handle a diagnostics program, Abbs," he assured her.

"If anything looks hinky, call me… me, not Mickey. _**Me**_. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Good." She pulled him into a kiss that left bright red lipstick on his lips. "See you later."

"Hey… I ah… I'll at least walk you to your car," Tony volunteered.

"Sure." Tim grabbed his coat. He knew Tony was going to cram a thousand questions into the next five minutes…


	5. Q & A

**Characters: **Abby, Tim, Jack and Tony (the rest of the team will show up as the story unfolds.)

**Rating: **T for sexual innuendo (i.e. Jack.)

**A/N: **ok, I figured out where I was going with this… now let's see if I can keep it being a 'short' story… ;-)

**THANK YOU** for the lovely reviews!

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**Chapter Five: Q & A**

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Tony DiNozzo glanced over his shoulder to make sure the door was closed before taking the other man by the arm. "Ok,"  he demanded tersely, keeping his voice low.  "What gives?"

Tim regarded him a moment.  "You've got about five minutes before she comes looking for you.   You might want to narrow your questions to specifics."

Tony gave him a brief, appraising look. Something about McGee seemed different… he was standing a little taller, maybe. He was more direct. Ok, Tony thought, he could do direct. "All right. Specifically.  Number one, what are you doing at Abby's place at nine o'clock at night?  Number two, what are you doing going in to work for her? You don't know forensics. Number three, what is either of you doing going in to work at nine o'clock at night? Number four, what's a My…Miv.. Meev"

"Myfanwy?"

"Yeah. That. And who's Janet? Is she hot?" he added with a smirk. "Because if she is…"

"Erm. No. She's not your type. Kinda quiet."

"It's always the quiet ones…"

Tim just grinned. That's what Abby said about him…

"What're you smiling about?"

"Nothing. Myfanwy's the office pet and she doesn't like me. I can go in for Abby because it doesn't really matter who's in over night. If something is urgent, I'll call her in. Otherwise I can handle a system wide diagnostics in my sleep," he said in a sour tone.

"So who's this Mickey guy, another McGeek like you?"

"Yes, Tony, another McGeek like me." He didn't feel like getting into it.

"Seriously, Probie, what are you doing going in at nine o'clock at night?"

He shrugged. "The boss likes  to  have  someone there over night. We take turns. It's a chance to catch up on side projects."

"Like 1887?"

"I'm finished 1887 before I left," he'd spent an extra hour at the Hub to do so, in fact. "I'll probably set up Abby's diagnostics program and move on to 1888." He was the only person Ianto trusted to the archives, a fact that filled him with considerable pride, not that he was going to say as much to the man standing next to him now.

"Sounds exciting," Tony's tone was sarcastic.

Before Tim could respond, a big black SUV skidded to stop at the curb, bare centimetres from where they were standing. The window rolled down and the driver leant over across the passenger seat to leer out at the two men. "Well _**hel-lo**_ Handsome!" He raised his eyebrows in Tony's direction.

Tony squirmed uncomfortably. "Can… I... help you…?" he stuttered.

Tim just barely stifled a groan. It was Jack.

The Captain grinned merrily. "I certainly hope so," he said; he cast an accusatory glance at Tim. "Shame on you, Timmy, for not telling me you had such cute friends."

Tony's glare was just as accusatory. "You _know_ this guy?"

"Captain Jack Harkness. My boss…" Tim began.

"Your _boss_…?" his voice was barely audible over the hum of the SUV's engine.

"Jack this is Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, NCIS," Tim finished the introductions, wondering just how badly this was going to end.  "He's on leave for a couple of days."

Jack gave Tony an appraising look, making no secret of exactly which parts of his body he was checking out. "Nice package there, sailor. You sure you're licensed to carry that thing in this country?" He wasn't referring to the gun that Tony wasn't carrying anyway. "DiNozzo's Italian, right? I love Italians… I dated this one guy…"

"Boss," Tim cut him off as Tony took half a step away from the vehicle and the other man's blatant scrutiny.

Jack just chuckled. "Abby around?" he queried in Tim's direction.

"I'm covering for her tonight. So… if you… maybe wanna scoot over…" he suggested, trying to get Jack out of there before things got any further out of hand than they were already. This was the absolute worst he'd ever seen the Captain behave, and that was saying something. "I assume you're here because something came up…" he instantly regretted his choice of words.

Jack winked at Tony, "It has now…"

"Jack…" Tim drew his name into two full syllables.

"Hop in, Timmy. See _you_ later, _Special _Agent," he raised his eyebrows at Tony again before he pulled back so Tim could get in. "Hope you're ok with Abby's gun… I was expecting her," he added.

Tony balked… Abby… gun… in the same sentence…? He didn't get the chance to ask, the SUV was gone again, blue lights flashing in the windows like it was some sort of official vehicle…

Tim waited until Jack had peeled away from the curb to speak. "That was really bad, Jack.  I mean… _really_ bad."

He just smirked, "But it was fun to watch, wasn't it?"

Tim couldn't help his chuckle.  "Thanks, Boss," he said, a guilty smile flickering across his face. For all the times Tony had made him feel like an idiot, that had definitely been fun to watch.

"Any time, Timothy. He is kinda cute, though," Jack commented  with wry a grin. "You think he might be interested in a little threesome? Or… I dunno, five-some maybe, if you and Abby wanna join in... you know what I say, there's always room for one more..."

"So where're we headed?" Tim asked instead of commenting. Abby was right. The best course of action was to ignore Jack's   inappropriate behaviour completely.

………………………………………………………………….

Abby greeted Tony with a cup of hot chocolate; she'd turned the lights back on, too. "You ok? You look a little pale."

"I think I just met your boss…"

"Jack! He was here…?" she peered past him, but there was no sign of the SUV.

"He came looking for you… he took McGeek instead. And… I think he was hitting on me." He looked stricken.

Abby snickered, "He hits on everybody. But he does love men in uniform. I'm not sure if women in uniform have the same effect on him, though," she mused thoughtfully. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"I… I have no idea. You carry a gun?"

"Only in the field. Why?"

"You… you carry a _**gun**__? _"

"Yes, Tony, I carry a gun in the field, same as you. Why?"

He just blinked. It was too much to process all at once. "That guy was really your _**boss**_…?"

"Flamboyantly sexual American in a big RAF coat and black SUV?" she clarified, not that she had any doubts they were talking about the same person.

Tony nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that's him."

"Then yeah, that was my boss. Jack," she grinned.  "Isn't he great?"

"He propositioned me!"

"Relax Tony," she steered him over towards the black velvet sofa and sat him down. "He's like that with everybody. It doesn't mean anything… well… I mean… it does… but you don't have to take it seriously. He's very happily married."

"That guy has a wife?"

"Husband."

Tony blinked.

"We're in the UK… that's legal over here, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah. Right." He drank his hot chocolate and stared at the blinking lights on the black Christmas tree. "That guy was _**really**_ your boss? And he lets you carry a gun?"

"He taught me how to shoot himself. He's a really good teacher… at least once I got him to stop breathing down my neck. Literally," she rolled her eyes.

"So he's like what, bisexual or something?"

"Omni sexual."

"Omni…? Never mind," he shook his head and drank some more cocoa. "I don't want to know."

Abby cozied in closer to him, "So… tell me about what you've been up to," she encouraged, deciding that it was a good time to change the subject.

Tony's demeanour changed. He stared at the tree again.  He shrugged.  He drank some more cocoa.   "Not much to tell."

"Why are you in Cardiff?" she asked, trying to lighten his mood a little.

Tony shrugged again. "Something about it being Christmas… The Ronald Reagan is deployed to England, but I was able to get a few days away. So I came here.  To see you. And McGeek. I just didn't expect to find you two… together…"

He glanced around the living room for… yes… there. Over in the corner stood an antique roll top desk. The desk wasn't the give away in and of itself, the desk fit the rest of the room beautifully; it was what was on it that told Tony what he wanted to know.

McGee's manual typewriter. Next to the typewriter sat a small, neat, stack of typed pages. There was a cup of pencils… another of pens… a coaster. Envelopes and stationary were stacked neatly onto the little shelves over the typewriter. The desk was immaculate.

Next to it stood a book shelf, the books lined up perfectly with the edge of the shelf. Tony was certain that if he took a good look, the books would be in Dewey Decimal order or something (not that he actually knew Dewey Decimal order… but he was sure Tim did.)

"You never mentioned Tim lived here, you know, Abbs."

"Didn't I?" she tried to sound innocent.

"No. Neither did he."

"Oh." She didn't quite meet Tony's gaze. The truth was, she'd omitted the fact from her email correspondences on purpose. The only person outside the team who knew was Ducky, and she'd sworn him to secrecy. She wasn't quite sure why… maybe because of the look Tony was giving her now. "It's no big deal."

"How many bedrooms?"

"Huh…? Two… well, sort of. The other one is really dinky, so we use one for storage. I barely had enough room for all my stuff and then Timmy moved in… it's not like we planned it!" She said defensively to the look he kept giving her. "I had to take care of him…"

"Uh huh."

"No, really… he was…" _exposed to alien angel dust. _"He had a little accident and they wouldn't let him out of the hospital if he didn't have somebody to go home with,  so  I brought  him   home with me and… I...  he   never moved out," she shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"It would be no big deal if he slept in the other bedroom."

She picked up his empty mug and trudged into the kitchen.

Tony followed, "Abby…"

"This is why I didn't tell anybody, Tony.  I knew you guys would turn it into this  big  huge thing and it isn't, it's just… it is what it is.  We're not calling it anything, we just... are."

"Ok, ok, I didn't mean to upset you," he said earnestly. "I just… I didn't figure you two would ever hook back up again. I never understood what was with you two to begin with."

She shrugged, turning to face him. "He's sweet, you know? He doesn't get all weirded out by the stuff that weirds other people out. And after everything that happened… you know… last year… those…things," she bit her lower lip again. She understood the whole story now, she knew exactly what Daleks were and why they'd ripped the Earth out of orbit, but she couldn't say that to Tony.  Top secret.  Hush hush.  She didn't want Jack to tell her she had to retcon Tony. "I guess… maybe… I was ready for… something. But it's _**no **__**big deal**_, " she asserted firmly.

"Ok, Abbs. I believe you."


	6. Beginning to Look alot Like Christmas

**Chapter Six: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas**

* * *

_It's beginning to look a lot like fish-men  
Everywhere I go  
From the minute I got to town  
And started to look around  
I thought these ill-bred people's gillslits showed.  
I'm beginning to hear a lot of fish-men  
Right outside my door,  
As I try to escape in fright  
To the moonlit Innsmouth night  
I can hear some more…._

-- **It's Beginning to Look a Lot like Fish-men  
**(to the music of 'It's Beginning to Look a Lot like Christmas')  
from the HP Lovecraft Historical Society

………………………………………………………………..

Strains of Abby's "Christmas music" continued to plague at Tony subconscious, even twenty minutes after getting out of her car. Only she would consider something so… bizarre… to be 'absolutely fantastic.' The only thing was, it was one of those songs that got stuck in a guy's head and refused to go away, just like when he was a kid and couldn't get the Oscar Meijer Wiener song out of his head… Abby was speaking:

"…_still_ haven't gotten any time off to go to London," she sighed, picking at her 'chips.' (They looked like plain old American French fries to Tony... except that according to the menu, they were served with breakfast, lunch and 'tea', which Abbs explained was really dinner and not tea at all.)

"But Ducky came down to visit a few weeks ago," she brightened, sprinkling a little more vinegar onto her chips. "You should really try it this way."

"No. Thanks."

She gave him a sour look over his tone, but continued thoughtfully, "Scotland isn't as far from here as it sounds. Maybe we can go visit…" she nibbled her lower lip a little. "As long as nothing hinky happens or anything."

"Hinky?" he glanced around the little all night café situated along side the waterfront of Cardiff Bay. It populated mainly by old farts with insomnia and kids who had nothing better to do but swill coffee and, at least in one little corner, play with tarot cards. The card-reading teens aside, he and Abby were hinkiest things in the joint and she had him out-hinkied by a mile. The worst that could be said of _him _was that he was a tourist. "What could possibly happen around here?"

"Well it _is_ Christmas, Tony, and we've got like a gajillion people down from London this year. So it would just figure that something would happen _here_ instead of there." She popped another chip into her moth, the combination of malt vinegar and salt sending pleasant little tingles down her spine.

Even though last Christmas had been quiet, she'd seen the UNIT report about the couple of Christmases before that. Jack had even put the team on "alert", just in case. Although as far as Abby could tell alert didn't seem to mean much. They were _always_ on call. Aliens did _not _keep banker's hours. Neither did the rift.

"Don't tell me you actually buy into all that stuff about London and Christmas," Tony said in a mocking, almost patronizing, tone. His expression was no better.

"Don't you?"

"Please. The _Titanic, _Abbs?" he scoffed.

"It might've been the _Titanic_… or maybe a really good replica or something."

"From space?" He shot her an incredulous look. "Give me a break. It was a hoax, Abby, something to scare up a little publicity and sell papers."

"You can't say you don't believe in aliens…"

His pained expression made her regret her statement.

"Of course I believe in aliens," he tried to recover from the momentary revealing of the chink in his armour. Abby, of course, didn't the tough guy facade one bit; she reached across the table and took his hand. He let her, but he continued on in a hardened tone: "I just don't believe aliens would disguise a ship as the _Titanic_, even if they wanted to blow up Buckingham Palace. It doesn't make any sense."

She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. "It's not all bad out there, you know."

"How would you know?"

"It can't be. I'll bet that somewhere out there are people just like us," she flashed a sly little smile. "I'll bet they look up at the stars just the same way we do and wonder if they're all alone and I bet… I bet they're afraid of the same things we are."

"So what, it was just our dumb luck that our First Contact turned out to be…" he shook his head, unable to get the image of those things out of it. He wasn't about to admit that he still had nightmares…

Abby remained mute; she couldn't tell him that that hadn't been Earth's First Contact with aliens, or even Daleks. "Not every alien species are like that. They can't be. Come on…"

He didn't answer.

He didn't get the chance.

A familiar big black SUV pulled into the car park.

Jack Harkness flashed a bright a smile Tony's way as he and Tim walked through the café door… although Tony wouldn't have had to be hard pressed to call Jack's 'walk' a saunter, one hand in his pocket, the big coat flowing around him. It was hard to tell if his stride came naturally or if he practiced.

"Hey there, Handsome," Jack greeted the visiting Naval Investigator. "Fancy meeting you here." He raised eyebrows suggestively.

Tony edged away from the man and that aftershave of his (although he wondered absently if there was somewhere around there he could pick up a bottle of the stuff for himself...)

"Jack Harkness!" Abby gave the Captain an exasperated look. "Would you _**please**_ behave? Or do I have to call your mother?"

Jack just smirked, "Like that would help," he helped himself to a chip off Tony's plate. "Never could get used to the whole vinegar thing," he winked at the younger man.

"And this _is_ behaving," Tim assured Abby with a bit of a groan as he slid into the booth next to her. "You should have seen what he did with Andy's new partner."

It didn't escape Tony's notice that McGee was wearing a different shirt than the one he'd left in.

"Andy has _another_ new partner?" Abby questioned. "Jack…" she turned an accusatory glare to her boss.

"That was not my fault," as he settled into the booth next to Tony; Tony slid over as far as he could get. "Jenn or Jill or whatever her name is, is out on maternity."

Abby gave him another glare.

"That is _**not**_ my fault," he asserted again.

Tony wasn't sure how seriously he should take Abby's apparent accusation, or how seriously Captain Dimples was taking it. (Because what was omnisexual, anyway?) "Nice shirt, Probie," he commented at Tim instead.

"Huh…? Oh. Yeah." McGee shot Jack a look.

"I tried to tell warn you," the Captain said in his own defence. "We called quopellixeus beetles 'slime bugs' when I was a kid for a reason," by his grin it was clear that whatever had happened, he'd found it entertaining.

"Qupel…what?" Tony started to ask, wondering what Torchwood (whoever Torchwood really was) was doing chasing after insect infestations at one o'clock in the morning.

He didn't get much time to think about it, however… another big black SUV pulled into the parking lot, but instead of some Dashing Hero wannabe, four gun toting men in red fish-masks got out.

"See," Abby asserted, "I _knew_ something like this was going to happen."

"So much for a quiet rest of the night," Jack muttered, going for his Welby…


	7. Rollie Pollie Fish Heads

……………………………………………………**.**

**Chapter Seven: Rollie Pollie Fish Heads**

…………………………………………………………………**..**

_They speak with guttural croaks and to hear them provokes  
A profound desire to flee  
Their eyes never blink and quite frankly they stink  
Like a carcass washed up from the sea._

* * *

Tony had just enough time to blink once. Harkness was on his feet, looking down at Abby and Tim, his jocular demeanour evaporated like that London fog everybody was always complaining about.

"Abbs, evacuate the café. Tim get to the SUV and log into the computer. I want to know if those guys came through the rift of landed somewhere. And if there are any more of them out there."

"On it, Boss," McGee said without even a hint of hesitation or so much as a glance in Tony's direction. He headed for the side entrance, mindful only of the men in fish-head masks (who didn't seem to be in any terrible hurry to get to the café. In fact they seemed to be enjoying the panic the sight of them was causing within, almost intentionally taking their time, making taunting faces at the patrons.)

Jack's gaze returned to Abby. "Those aren't adolescents, Abbs," he cautioned her. "Blowfish might be great for a laugh if you're out joyriding together but unless I'm wrong, those guys are _not_ here for a night on the town. Do _not _hesitate to shoot to kill. As soon as you get those people out of here, get to the SUV and arm yourself. And call in the locals – tell them we've got this." His tone at the mention of the local police clearly betrayed his opinion of their capabilities, at least in the current situation.

(Tony blinked again, however, at the strangeness of the order… three to four weren't bad odds… and really it was four to four, he was there, all he needed was a gun and he had the feeling Harkness had one or two to spare. He was a darned good shot, better than Probie anyway… but something about the way Harkness had made that statement about not calling in the locals gave him pause to wonder what was really going on. And armed or not, it was just a bunch of guys in masks… Why shoot to kill? To quote Abby, that sounded a little hinky.)

Abby, however, didn't argue; she turned to the café patrons who were already beginning their own chaotic version of an evacuation.

"We're with Torchwood," she identified herself loudly enough to get their attention. "Everybody get to the back of the restaurant and exit through the kitchen. Stay calm, people! We have the situation under control," she added, glancing at the staff, silently imploring their assistance.

"What do you want me to do?" Tony found himself asking Harkness, instinct causing him to yield to the figure of authority the Captain had suddenly become.

"You can leave with the rest of the civilians," Jack told him dismissively.

"What are you going to do, then?" He wanted to know, his tone scathing, the modicum of respect the Captain had gleaned, gone.

Jack's amused smirk surprised him. "I'm going to go have a nice little chat with our friends out there," he raised his eyebrows suggestively, "Care to give a man who might get killed in the line of duty a farewell kiss?" he leered. "You might never get another chance."

Tony missed Abby's look, although it was directed entirely at Jack.

Without waiting for an answer Jack shrugged out of his coat and tossed it to Abby before heading for the door.

The fish-men stopped when he met them there and seemed to be trying to decide whether to shoot or listen.

He flashed much the broad grin at them as he'd been flashing at Tony all night. "Hey, Boys! Nice night for a stroll, huh?" His tone was deceptively light-hearted despite the guns trained in his direction. He had their full attention (which had been the point; Tim was nearly to the SUV and Abby had most of the patrons out of the dining room.) "Didn't anybody tell you? This is a Class 5 planet. You're scaring the natives and I don't know about you, but I don't want the cops showing up."

They scoffed in his direction making derisive comments about the incompetence of the local police.

Jack sneered right back, "I'm not talking about the locals, Boys. Were you around these parts the last time we had the Judoon show up?" he made a face…

"_Tony!"_ Abby hissed, pulling at his sleeve. "Come on!"

"What does he mean, Class 5 planet?"

"It means they shouldn't be here and they know it, now come on!" She forcibly pushed him towards the back of the restaurant.

"What do you mean, they shouldn't be here…?" he let himself get pulled along; they were safely in the kitchen when the first shot rang out. Tony jumped, but Abby held him firmly in place.

She directed her attention to the frightened civilians. "Don't panic, everyone just keep going out the door," she told them firmly, shocking Tony by the way she only barely flinched when the shooting started. It wasn't that she was a coward – she was anything but – but her boss was out there alone with four armed men… or… whatever they were…. "Keep your heads down, head towards the next street over. Don't panic, just move! Tony, you too," Abby pushed him towards the door.

"What about Captain Dimples?"

She couldn't help but grin at his assessment. "Jack'll be fine. Now get moving. We need to get these people clear."

Tony _didn't_ see the way she'd started chewing at her lower lip when Jack took off his coat. He could take a few bullets, the much loved coat on the other hand… but all things considered, him getting shot was a better course than to put the lives of a dozen people at risk by starting a gun fight with four Blowfish in the middle of the street. Even as adults, they were one of the more unpredictable alien species on record in the Torchwood database…


	8. Laughing Happy Fish Heads

**A/N:**

**One of our cable stations has been playing NCIS, 3 episodes a night, but not in order (making it fun to see how some characters evolve during the show and others don't…) One of the conclusions I've come to is that I'm not sure I like Tony… or at least he's not the sort of person I'd set him up with any of my female friends ;-)**

**Which is why I'd never planned to get into his**** head, it just sort of happened… but I'm pleased with the result. **

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Laughing Happy Fish Heads**

* * *

_In the morning, laughing happy fish heads_

_In the evening, floating in soup!_

_(from __**Fish Heads **__by__** Barnes and Barnes)**_

* * *

Not only did it look like a fish, it smelled like a fish. A fish that had been left to sit on the counter a little too long to be fit for human consumption. That, however, wasn't nearly as disconcerting as the high power riffle it had trained at Tony DiNozzo's head or the wild array of insults it was spewing, mostly in reference to the Naval Investigator's mother and her sexual proclivities (which were purely in the imagination of the fish man.) It might have been more insulting, but about half of what it was saying made as much sense as some of Israeli-born Ziva David's attempts at American slang.

What was worse – other than the very real possibility of getting shot – was that Tony had no idea how he'd gotten to this point.

The night had started out simply enough, a surprise visit to friends – the surprise being on him when he found out they were living together. Then being hit on by their boss and _then_ winding up in a midnight shoot out at the OK Corral – or at least the local chip shop.

Tony had been in the restaurant's kitchen with Abby helping her get the late night diners out of the café when the gunfire started out in the dining room. He could make out rounds coming from both the fish-masked assailants' riffles and Harkness' Welby. It sounded like the Captain was doing fairly well for a man out numbered and outgunned... eventually, however, Tony stopped hearing any rounds coming from Welby. He doubted it was because the Captain was out of ammunition.

As soon as the last civilians was out the back door, Tony decided to prove that he wasn't a civilian. Despite Abby's frenetic protests, he went back to the dining room to see if there was anything left of Captain Dimples to help, or if he would be on his own to disarm the four masked lunatics. (He didn't expect either Abby or Probie to be much help. McGeek had his assignment and it seemed to entail some sort of computer work and no matter what anybody said, the thought of Abby firing a gun was too much to imagine. It wasn't in her nature to kill anything.)

Moments after entering the dining room to assess the situation, Tony found his back up against the wall on the wrong end of a riffle listening to a repertoire of stereotypical insults being spewed out by somebody whose first language obviously wasn't English.

"If you're going to shoot me just get it over with already!" he shouted in exasperation over the fish man's blathering.

The sound of the gunshot made Tony jump (although he would adamantly and steadfastly deny afterwards that he hadn't actually yelped when he heard the shot). Before he could think to realize he hadn't been hit, he realized he was covered in… goo.

Fish brains. Slim. Blood.

He felt his gorge rise, but he would deny that, too. He wasn't the sort of man to throw up, even if it was because he was covered in fish brains. (These guys definitely smelled worse on the inside…)

He felt his jaw go slack when he looked up; he was expecting to see Captain Dimples gloating over the shot (which admittedly was impressive.) Instead, he saw Probie – not gloating – standing over the dead fish man, holding the proverbial smoking gun. His hands weren't even shaking.

"Nice shot, McGeek," Tony said sarcastically as he wiped blood and gray matter off his face. "You could have killed me, too, you know that," his tone was acerbic.

"You're welcome," Tim replied without missing a beat; he handed over a wad of cheap paper napkins.

Tony gave him a dour look. "Gee. Thanks," he said with intentional disgust in his tone. "Where's Captain Dimples?" he looked around wondering if the Captain was still standing.

There were two more dead fish men on the other side of the room, one on the floor, the other slumped over a table. And there was Jack Harkness standing over them, looking none the worse for wear. Except for the shot gun blast sized hole in his shirt.

"You ok?" Tony asked, the sincerity in his tone a result of his shock at seeing the Captain alive and well.

Jack smirked, "Better than you, Hot Stuff. Here," He tossed the American a clean dry towel from the waitress station.

Tony caught it one handed. "Thanks. What about…?" he glanced at the bodies. "Weren't there four?"

"Abby got the last one when he charged the kitchen," Jack's pride in her was obvious. "Live capture. Good thing she always carries a tazer," his smirk grew broader. "I'm going to take him in for questioning. Need to make sure this was an isolated incident," he added in an almost offhanded sort of way. "Tim, you're on clean up."

"Yup, I figured, Boss," Tim had already holstered his gun.

Tony watched him head out to the SUV and pull some things out of the back… the field kit was obvious for what it was… the white body bags were a little weird and not just because they were white. They were body bags. And they were the sort of standard equipment these guys carried around with them?

Meanwhile, Jack had collected the unconscious Blowfish from Abby and was securing it in the back of the SUV.

Tony watched the scene unfold; they were obviously all pretty practiced at this… he finally looked over at McGee, who was starting to bag up the man he'd killed. "Don't you have to call the police or something, get the coroner out here?"

Outside, the SUV pulled out of the car park.

"Where's he taking that guy?" Tony finished off with one last question. Torchwood was some sort of institute, they didn't have the authority…

"We have a medic who handles our autopsies," Tim told him without looking up from what he was doing. "And Jack already said he was taking that one in for questioning."

"Don't you have to take pictures? Document the crime scene? Something? You know, _**procedure**__?" _Because things could not be that different in the UK. You didn't just start moving bodies without documenting the scene, getting an ok from a coroner or medical examiner… any rookie knew that!

"In a case like this, this_ is_ procedure, Tony," Tim answered him simply.

Abby walked back in the café door carrying her field kit. It had a white skull and cross bones on the top. The skull had red glittery eyes.

Tony turned to her, hoping maybe she would be able to make some sense of the situation for him. "Abbs, what's going on here?" Remembering what Harkness had said… 'clean up'… had he really meant 'cover up'? "What kind of organization are you two working for?" This wasn't law enforcement…

Abby knelt down next to him and took the towel out of his hands. She started wiping his face as if he were a child.

He caught her hands in his. "Abby, answer me. What's going on?"

She heaved a sigh, exchanging a brief, unreadable, glance with McGee. "Tony, trust me," she said after a moment. "Stop asking questions. This," she turned his face so he could see the blood splattered dining room, "was the result of a late night robbery gone bad. Really, really bad. _Thank __**goodness**_ some good Samaritans were here to prevent anybody from getting hurt. The police are on the lookout for four men in scary masks."

"Somebody _did _get hurt…... Abbs... they're **_dead_.** I mean, ok, sure, they were probably going to kill somebody…"

Tim was chuckling.

"What's so funny, McGoon-Squad?" demanded Tony.

Tim ignored the new insult. "Abby is," he flashed a warm smile in her direction. "You're not gunning for Ianto's job are you, Abbs?"

"As if," she scoffed right back, a good natured smile on her face. Then she turned back to Tony. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine," he brushed off further attempts on her part to get him cleaned up. "Or I would be if I knew what was going on."

"We're Torchwood," Tim said, as if that explained everything. He hid another small smile, remembering Ianto coaching him on his first day. Realizing, however, what it must look like to someone like Tony DiNozzo, he stopped what he was doing and turned to his former colleague, taking the time to really look at him. Really answer him. "We have the authority to be here, Tony. We have the authority to be be doing exactly what we're doing. This is our job. If you don't believe me, you can call the police, the phone's over there," he nodded towards the phone on the counter. "As soon as they arrive, we'll tell them we've got the situation under control and they'll leave, no questions asked. That's how it works. We're Torchwood."

Tony was tempted to get up and make that call… but something in Tim's voice told him he wasn't kidding or even exaggerating. Besides, Probie wasn't exactly know for his duplicitous nature... the man couldn't lie his way out of a wet paper sack. Tony looked to Abby; there was nothing in her expression to betray a lie, either. "No questions asked? Ever?" he queried.

"Never," she assured him.

"So… what? You guys do this all the time?" he asked.

Abby was pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "Only once in a while. Only when we have to. Jack was right, these are adults. Adult Blowfish are really unpredictable and can be totally violent for no reason at all. Adolescents are just unpredictable. Now come on," she handed him a pair of gloves. "Give us a hand bagging these guys up and then we'll get out of here and let Timmy finish cleaning up."

"Abby…" Tim began to protest.

"It's not like Tony didn't see them. You don't mind, do you?" she asked him.

"I…guess not. It's just…" it still felt wrong "What about evidence… pictures…?"

"Tony, they're Blowfish," Abby told him. "Look. It's not a mask." She yanked at the fins on the Blowfish's head. "The only documenting we're going to do is to type up a report for our own archives. Nobody else will _ever _see it. And you shouldn't tell anybody, either," she added in a stern tone.

Tony blinked as the reality of it sunk in… it was a reality that had been niggling at him for some while, but his conscious brain had been refusing to acknowledging it… "What… you mean… they're… they can't be…" He still couldn't say the word.

"They're aliens, Tony," Tim told him in the calmest voice he could muster. "Or at least they were. Now they're just sushi."

Tony felt his gorge rising again.

"That was a joke, Tony," Abby assured him quickly. "Come on, you look like you need some air… Tim…?"

"I've got this. Go on," he gave her a warm parting smile that was full of love and fondness and then went back to work.

……………………………………………………………

Tony stared up at the sky; he wasn't about to admit out loud the moment of abject terror he'd felt when his brain finally wrapped itself around the fact that he'd almost been shot by a fish headed alien.

Aliens.

Daleks.

And now Blowfish.

"It's really not all aliens waiting to attack out there, Tony," Abby sat them down on the curb outside the café.

"It sure looks like it from here."

"We see some good stuff too."

He turned to stare at her.

"This is we do. We catch aliens. Just the bad ones. And they're really not all bad."

"Don't tell me you've met good aliens…?" his tone was incredulous and clearly betrayed his thoughts on the concept of 'good alien.'

"The only thing that makes them 'alien' is the fact that they weren't born on this planet. And that isn't enough to make somebody 'bad.' It just means they're different from us."

"But…"

"They're not all like Daleks and Blowfish, Tony. Now come on. You need a shower."


	9. Memories

**A/N: **Just a quick little wrap up…

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Memories**

…………………………………………………………………

_I wish I'd paid attention to that crazy drunken man  
He tried to warn me all about old Marsh's Deep One clan_

_(from __**It's Beginning to Look a Lot like Fish Men**)_

* * *

"Tony…?" Abby opened the bathroom door a bare crack, just in case. The shower was still running, so he should be…

"Abby! I'm naked!" Tony yelped.

"And behind the shower curtain," she said in an exasperated tone. "I'm leaving a bathrobe and a cup of hot cocoa for you on the counter." Despite the fact that she couldn't see anything through the heavy red and black shower curtain, Abby averted her eyes away from the tub. There were some things she could live her whole life without seeing, and Tony DiNozzo's bare butt was pretty high up on the list.

"Please do not tell me it's Probie's bathrobe," her former colleague replied in a sour tone.

Abby giggled. "You could borrow mine if you want."

"Never mind."

She giggled again, closing the bathroom door. Laughing didn't help much when it came to ignoring the stab of guilt, however.

Friends don't spike friends' cocoa with retcon. That's what she'd tried to tell Jack, anyway. He hadn't agreed.

And deep down – way deep down – she knew he was right. It wasn't blind faith, it was the look on Tony's face when she'd told him she and McGee caught aliens for a living.

It was the look on Tony's face when Tim shot the Blowfish right in front of him. That had been pretty gross.

So it was definitely for the best. But it still felt wrong.

She sighed. It didn't really matter, it was already done. She'd even put half a shot of peppermint schnapps into Tony's cocoa, just like Jack had suggested, to help Tony fall asleep faster.

He really would be be way happier thinking he'd had a few too many pints with her at some pub and stumbled back to her flat drunk than remembering being splattered with fish brains anyway. And knowing Tony, he probably wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut, either. She'd seen him keep secrets before. Big secrets. Important secrets. But everybody's world view had changed a year ago. As much as she hated to admit it, Jack was right, most of the world still wasn't ready for everything that was out there.

Jack had promised her that Tony only forget the last couple of hours, just the café and the Blowfish.

She still wished he'd made Tim do it. Timmy was better at mean stuff than she was and retconning your friend's cocoa was defiantly way up there on the mean scale.

Abby sighed again, sipping her own schnapps laden cocoa. She plugged in the Christmas tree lights. As soon as Tony got out of the bathroom, she'd put in _It's A Wonderful Life _and let him doze off on the sofa.

"I just hope there aren't any more fish men out there," she glanced out at the Cardiff night.

It _was_ Christmas after all.

* * *

_It's beginning to look a lot like Fish-men  
Everywhere I go;  
They can dynamite Devil Reef,  
but that'll bring no relief,  
Y'ha N'thlei is deeper than they know._

_  
I'll continue to see a lot of fish-men  
That I guarantee.  
For the fish-man I really fear  
is the one who's in the mirror  
And he looks like me.  
He looks just like me…._

_(the rest of __**It's Beginning to Look a Lot like Fish Men)**_

* * *


	10. Abby and Janet

**A/N: just a very short, random thought… **

……………………………………………………**.**

**Chapter Ten: Abby and Janet**

…………………………………………………………………**..**

"What's she doing?" Bobby leant over and asked Jack; they were watching Abby on the internal security feed. She was sitting on the floor in front of Janet's cell. She had several objects on the floor in front of her: An apple, a ball, an old raggedy Anne doll, a bell, and a pencil.

She also had a tray of meat scraps.

Bobby had come up from the medical bay to ask Jack a question. When he found the Captain sitting at Ianto's station, he was going to accuse him of plundering his lovers drawers (and yes, he meant it just as badly as he was sure Jack would take it) but then he'd noticed what Jack was watching. It was fascinating to say the least.

Abby said the word 'apple.' She held the apple up. She put it back down and made a sign with her hands. Then she said 'doll' and held the doll up a moment then made a different sign. And so on, down the line of items she had in front of her.

"I think its sign language," Jack said at length. Abby had a theory about the Weevils. She had several theories, actually. One of them was that if people could teach gorillas to sign, there was no reason she couldn't teach Janet.

"Is she having any luck with that?" the medic queried; his tone betrayed his scepticism. When he'd first come to Torchwood, about a year ago, although it hardly seemed that long, he'd done an extensive work up on Janet. Nothing invasive, of course. He'd just never had the chance to study a live alien up close and personal before; after a while, he'd found himself too busy to go back and revisit the project. He hadn't even known where he was going with it, he just wanted the chance to evaluate her for himself.

Jack shrugged in response to Bobby's question. "It's hard to tell. Maybe. She does have a point, though." He turned to face the younger man, his arms crossed over his chest.

"What point?"

"Weevils aren't intelligent enough – or physically dexterous enough – to manufacture clothes. But they always come through the rift wearing those same jumpsuits. Ever wonder where they get them?"

The younger man blinked a moment. "I never thought about it, really." In some respects, Weevils were fairly domesticated. They kept themselves relatively clean. They wore clothing, something most non-human primates wouldn't do. Of course they were as likely to kill a man as they were to look at him.

"Abby has another theory," said Jack.

Bobby gave him a questioning look.

"What if some day somebody comes looking for their lost Weevils?"

"That could be a problem, couldn't it?"

"Yup."

Bobby glanced at the computer monitor, shoving his hands into his pockets. "How long has she been at that?"

"About a week."

"Maybe I'd better make sure she gets a copy of the files I started on Janet when I first got here."

"Good idea."


End file.
